


Shards

by LauraRose



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - Fandom, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Harm, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:37:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4335944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraRose/pseuds/LauraRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone needs someone to hold them and help them piece themselves together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shards

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This material contains potentially triggering material, involving self harm, and being guided through it by a loved one.
> 
> This is written by someone who used to hurt themselves, and its a reflection of the pain that I can see in Bond, and how healing requires baby steps and sometimes, you need a hand to hold.

He hated it.

Bond stared down at his reflection on the glass coffee table, leaning over it as he rocked back and forth. He was shirtless, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped over his ears as he stared at the reflection, stared at the empty blue eyes and tried to find... something.

Something worth holding on for, something worth fighting for. He stared at a man and a monster looked back.

The monster who had seen another life end at the pull of his finger. A licence to kill... and killing was what he was good at. He was very good at it, but they never told you what it did in the end. They never told you how it froze your soul, how it tore you apart from the inside. They never told you that eventually you became as empty as the people you killed, and how you shattered into a thousand broken shards.

The alcohol usually shut out the whispers, the dead that haunted him. Tonight however, even the Blair Athol was failing him and they tormented him. They whispered in his ear. Truths and lies that all morphed into one. He tried to push them away as he froze over slowly. Picking up the glass, and swirled the amber liquid, before holding the crystal tumbler between his hands. The smell of nuts wafted gently up his nose, something warming in the scent.

It didn't ease the chill. Even when he threw it back, and swallowed it in three large gulps, it felt like he was swallowing a glass of ice water. The chill was in his mind and the logical, analytical part of his brain knew that. It did not stop the pain. Bond shivered and curled in on himself, the pain so real, so physical that it hurt.

He shook.

The mission had been so simple. Theft. Get into the lab, steal the hard drive and get out again... It was something that he had done a thousand times before, and would do again. Be a ghost. You don't exist. Another thing that he was good at, not existing. As insubstantial as a wisp of perfume on a summer's breeze.

With the disk in his pocket, he had been making his way back out, Q in his ear. The banter between them was easy, the flirtation casual and relaxed. Then... it went wrong. Someone came through the door, and James had twisted, a single shot to the chest and the _boy_ fell back.

The reaction had been instinct, nothing more and it was only afterwards when the adrenaline left his system that he realised... this was not an enemy with a gun. This was a lab tech, a young man who had graduated university three months ago, someone who was excited about his new job and ready to set out in the world with his girlfriend.

He didn't know he was working for a company that were selling biological weapons to the highest bidder.

He didn't know that morning when he had his coffee that he would not come home to wash up the mug.

He did not know that when he said goodbye to his girlfriend that she would never see him again.

The boy blinked at him. Bond could see his eyes in the reflection of the table, and the glass fell from his fingers. He could see those eyes, clouded with pain, then the slow realisation that he had been shot, and the horror when he realised that he was... dying. It did not last long, but that face was pertinently etched in Bond's memory. James watched as blood bubbled from the young man's mouth, all the while Q was shouting in his ear.

_007! Acknowledge, report in, now... Bond? James!_

Bond retched as he remembered, as he watched the light die in the boys eyes, and he couldn't stand it. Bond lashed out, his fist plunging through the glass table into the space beyond. He shattered the table, in an effort to block out the sight. Glass rained around him and he felt himself sliding forwards onto the floor.

His bottom hit the carpet and his leg stretched out in front of him, his heel ploughing through the shattered glass like snow. Numb, he looked at his knuckle. Bleeding. The stinging made him gasp, and swallow, trying to remember what this was.

This was pain. This was feeling. This was _something._

A large shard caught his eye, glinting in the faint street light. He stared at it, fascinated. A bit of his mind seemed to separate off from the rest of it. No... Bond, don't.

It will get better.

_Will it?_

Wrapping his fingers around the shard of glass, he picked it up. The sharp edges dug into his hand, and the shard was soon crimson with his blood. The tip went to his wrist.

The agent froze, his hand shaking as he tried to seek a way out, tried to find a way to escape this... it wasn't even pain, it was the hollow empty feeling of someone, of something that should not exist. The loneliness because no one else would have to remember who killed that boy.

Another ghost to whisper in his ear, another face to accuse him.

The tip pressed into the skin, and he watched as blood, almost blue looking, welled up at the point. He did not slash, he just watched with morbid fascination and horror as he pressed it into the vein.

The front door opened and he froze. Who...? The light came on and he looked up.

"James..." Q's voice was soft. His eyes were locked on James, locked on the blood. There was horror in the young man’s face, but it melted into the understanding, his smile kind, soft... and sad.

Bond began to shake again.

Q approached slowly, moving like one would approach a wild animal who was trapped and hurting. He extended his hands and Bond handed him the shard of crimson glass, his fingers twitching as he did.

The agent's eyes closed,  he let the tears fall as he listened to Q move about the room behind him. Never out of sight of the agent, he only opened his eyes when he felt a blanket around his shoulders, drawing him against him. He rocked Bond like a swaddling babe, back and forth.

James fell to pieces. The wail was a tortured, animal sound and from there, he sobbed until he was empty. He sobbed until things went still and the tears were gone. He was so cold.

"Its okay, James," Q whispered. James felt lips in his hair, a gentle touch as Q held the blanket over his hand. "Its okay, baby... you're not alone anymore..." another kiss and James felt a little flicker of something.

"I've got you... I love you... we will get through this..." Q whispered in his ear. Another flicker and something ignited, in him. Tiny, it was... but it was there. A spark of warmth that fought off the biting cold, just a little so those arms could wrap around him. So he could feel the man who loved the monster and the man.

James moaned and pressed into Q, shivering and Q kissed his hair.

"It will get better," Q whispered in his ear.

James believed him.

 


End file.
